


Head-Holes

by INMH



Series: the right-shaped holes [6]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Side Effects, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-07 15:57:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20978549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: Graves receives a visitor in the hospital.





	Head-Holes

“Well, you look like shit.”  
  
Percival _felt_ like shit, but he’d be damned if he was going to let the comment go untouched. “How’s your mother, Scamander?” He asked dryly, without even opening his eyes. He knew who was standing in the doorway.  
  
“Oh, she’s fine. Misses you terribly.”  
  
Damn. ‘Your mother’ jokes never seemed to get under Scamander’s skin.  
  
“Well, you just let her know I’m thinking of her.”  
  
“Will do. Now, how did this happen?”  
  
Percival finally opened his eyes and saw that Theseus Scamander had migrated to stand beside the bed. Funny, because he hadn’t even heard him do it- but then, Scamander was a quiet guy. “Gellert Grindelwald.”  
  
Scamander’s expression, which had previously been pleasantly calm, shifted to something darker. “You’re taking the piss, right?”  
  
“I am not taking a piss, no. I’m also not joking.”  
  
Normally Scamander would have taken the bait and started using more British slang and expressions just to aggravate Percival, but the mention of Europe’s (and now America’s) deadliest wizard making an appearance had soured any attempts at humor. “What the hell happened?”  
  
Percival sighed, and went to speak-  
  
-only for the words not to come.  
  
_Shit._  
  
Percival had spent weeks beneath the floorboards of some hovel hideaway of Gellert Grindelwald’s: He had been encased in total darkness, unable to move or speak or scream. His body had wasted away, losing weight and muscle-mass and- though he was loathe to admit it- a good chunk of his mental and emotional stability. He would forget that he could move himself around and reach for things- and sometimes his words didn’t actually make it up his throat and out his mouth, staying trapped in his head the way they’d been for so long.  
  
“Uh-” Percival frowned, reaching for the words. Where things had been clear before, now they were fragmented beyond repair and he was unable to pull them all back in.  
  
He must have looked confused or distressed, because Scamander’s brow creased and he sat down on the edge of the bed. The movement shook the bed slightly, and from under the pillows slid a small, black creature with a long, wiggly nose. “Alright, Percival? I- Is that a niffler?”  
  
Percival nodded, as it seemed the best way to communicate until his brain decided to cooperate.  
  
“Merlin’s Beard, so Newt really _was_ here. I’d heard as much, but I was hoping it wasn’t true.” Scamander rubbed his eyes as the niffler padded over the bed to come sniff him, nose making its way towards his pocket. “You stay out of there.”  
  
Percival smirked and tried again to speak. “The, uh… That… Sniffed me out. Found me. Wouldn’t be here without it.” Just like that, he could speak again. The spells came and went, breaking his mind and then remolding it again in a matter of minutes.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“The niffler- it sniffed out my pocket-watch,” Percival supplied. “Found me underneath the floorboards.”  
  
“Under the _floorboards?_”  
  
“What, am I stuttering?” There was always a high after the episodes where he couldn’t talk, where he got it back and then just wanted to keep right on using it until he lost it again. “Yeah, the floorboards. Bastard hid me under the floorboards of some flop-house where he was staying until he got his claws on me. It was like something out of an Edgar Allan Poe story.”  
  
Scamander frowned. “Who?”  
  
Percival rolled his eyes. “Never mind.”  
  
“How _did_ he get his claws on you? I’m hard-pressed to imagine anyone getting the drop on you. I’ve seen you in action, after all.”  
  
Percival sighed, picking up the niffler and settling it beside him, away from Scamander’s pockets. This wasn’t a matter of being stuck under a floor for weeks so much as it was simple memory. “Last I remember, I was coming off of Bleecker Street on MACUSA business. Next thing I know, I’m waking up with Grindelwald leering at me like some ghoul out of a kid’s fairy-tale. Then I was in the dark.”  
  
The long, _long_ dark.  
  
No sound, no movement, no light.  
  
Percival felt his body tense, muscles going into sharp spasms from the memory of it. Having no ability to move one’s body was a hell he never wanted to endure again; and as such, it tended to make its way into his nightmares on a pretty regular basis. He didn’t want to make it obvious, but as it was involuntary, it was hard to hide- and of course Scamander noticed.  
  
“Are you alright?”  
  
“Fine,” Percival grunted. “Just some… Aftershocks, I guess.”  
  
“What sort of spell did he use to keep you alive all that time?”  
  
“Something dark, I’m sure.”  
  
“Dark enough to still be giving you trouble, I see.”  
  
“Eh.” Percival shrugged. The spasms had passed, and his muscles were loose again; or at least, as loose as they could be after being motionless and then bedbound for so long. But hell if he was going to admit any lasting effects to Scamander: They’d had bullets in them before and refused to admit to any pain or disability. Unlike that time in France, it’s not as though Percival could joke about this being a flesh-wound; there was no wounded flesh, after all.  
  
Just his brain.  
  
“When do you expect you’ll be going home?”  
  
The niffler was creeping towards Scamander again, and Percival dutifully pulled him back. “Not sure yet. Probably won’t be going back to work anytime soon, either.” What he didn’t say was how reluctant he was to go trotting back to his house like there was nothing wrong, like he’d be able to tolerate the dark and the silence and even the _possibility_ that something (some_one_) could be hiding in a corner.  
  
Again: Not that he was about to admit this to Scamander.  
  
He’d spend another year in the trenches before he did that.  
  
“Well, if you need some place to recuperate far, _far_ away from Gellert Grindelwald and your boss, you’re always welcome to come back to England with me.”  
  
Percival’s eyebrows jumped up on his head. “Really, Scamander? You’d want my Yankee ass staying in your house?”  
  
Scamander snorted. “I’d like to think that after all these grossly inappropriate jokes about death and gore, all that time on the Continent together, that we’re friends.” Scamander smirked. “Besides, I’m sure my mother would _love_ to meet you.”  
  
Percival chuckled, even as he seriously weighed the offer. There sure were worse people he could spend his recuperation time with, and he really _did_ need to get this little niffler back to Newt Scamander before it stole anything that might actually get it into trouble: It had already come dangerously close to pocketing a healer’s bracelet. Nah, going to England wouldn’t be so bad at all.  
  
(Just so long as he wasn’t at home, alone, in the dark and the silence.  
  
_Again_.)  
  
“Alright, fine, if you want to drag me back to Jolly Old England with you, I’ll go without a fight. Drop your brother a letter and let him know he’ll be getting his little friend back soon.”  
  
Scamander rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Assuming he returns my bloody owls for once,” he muttered, more to himself than to Percival. Louder, he said “I’ll be Stateside for a while, so don’t feel the need to perform some sort of jail-break to get out in time. I’ll be around, I’ll visit, and I’ll drag you across the pond when the time comes.”  
  
Percival raised his hand and clasped Scamander’s. “Well, I appreciate it, Scamander.” A beat. “You limey prick.”  
  
Scamander laughed. “We’ll see how much you appreciate it after being in Travers’s territory for a bit.”  
  
“Just makes it easier to punch him.”  
  
Scamander left, and the niffler reluctantly returned to his spot beneath the pillow. Percival settled back, shutting his eyes and trying to forget that he was in the hospital. _Only a little while longer,_ he considered with some relief.  
  
Only a little while longer until he could get out of New York and away from Gellert Grindelwald.  
  
Just for a while.  
  
-End


End file.
